


5 Wishes Peter Didn't Ask For and the 1 He Did

by alice_in_ink



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Dialogue Heavy, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Irondad, Peter Parker wishes, Spider-son, Tony Stark's got jokes, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, basically a crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-20 10:29:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15532275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alice_in_ink/pseuds/alice_in_ink
Summary: “You’re our one billionth customer!” a man in a suit exclaimed enthusiastically.  He rushed forward and shook Peter’s hand.  “Congratulations!”A news camera was shoved in front of their faces, filming their shocked reactions as a woman rushed forward and handed Peter a large check for—“Five wishes!” she exclaimed giddily.  “Yours to demand at any time!  Congratulations!”Peter and Tony exchanged a look of panicked confusion....Tony just wanted to buy Peter some new clothes.  He did not want to be mobbed by Manhattan Mall's version of Make a Freaking Wish.





	1. Prologue: The Wishes Nobody Asked For

**Author's Note:**

> This piece follows the events in I Saved You, Cinderella. If ya missed that, whoops on you. (But still come join the party anyways.)

“I don’t care what Fred says,” Tony said dismissively.  “You look drab.”

On the seat beside him, Peter frowned.  “I don’t think people really say that anymore.”

Tony peeked at the teen over his orange shades.  “You realize you’re talking to a futurist, right?”

Peter rolled his eyes and turned to face the back of Happy’s headrest.  “An old futurist.”

Tony swirled a finger at him.  “Hey, just because you’re mumbling doesn’t mean I can’t hear you.  I can hear the mumbles.”

“I thought old people had bad hearing,” Happy called over his shoulder.

Peter snickered.

Tony looked between the two with offense.  “What is this—gang on Tony time?  I’m doing something _nice_ for once, and I’m getting nothing but smack-talk from the kid and now from my own civil servant—“

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, sobering up with a small smile.  “It’s, like, way crazy nice of you to do this.  But I really don’t—“

“Uh-uh,” Tony cut him off with a hand.

Peter huffed.  “May already buys me—“

“If the overworked aunt can buy you clothes, why can’t the wanna-be uncle with piles of money give it a go?”

Peter blinked.  “You wanna be my uncle?”

Tony’s head fell into his propped hand.  “Why do you always take away the lessons I’m not trying to teach?”

“I thought you had a steady thing with Pepper.”  Peter’s brow furrowed with worry.  “Did something happen with Miss Potts—“

“Just let me buy you clothes, kid,” Tony hurriedly cut that off, reaching out to grip the teen’s shoulders.  “Let me do this one thing.”

He was uncertain about it, but still Peter nodded.  “If you really want to, Mr. Stark.”

Tony finally relaxed a bit, dropping a hand and swinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders.

“Boss usually whines until he gets what he wants,” Happy told Peter.

“Next thing I want,” Tony declared with a pointed finger, “is for you to never call me Mr. Stark.”

“But it’s your name!” Peter protested.  “It’s, like, totally a part of your identity in my head now.”

“Yeah, what else you got about me in there?” Tony asked, peering closer at Peter’s forehead.

“Aaaaaaand we’re here,” Happy announced as the car pulled alongside the curb.  Peter was the only one to hear his tacked on, “Thank God.”

Peter moved to open his door, but the hand around his shoulders held him back.

“Uh, do we not have a protocol for this?” Tony checked in disbelief.

Peter gave him a Look.  “We’re at a mall, Mr. Stark.  There isn’t even any paparazzi out there.”

“Don’t make me child lock your door,” Tony threatened casually.  He moved across the seat and opened up the door to his side.  He fluidly emerged from the car, adjusting his t-shirt and blazer while giving the perimeter a once over.

“Mr. Stark, every time you do this, you make me stare at your butt,” came a voice from inside the car.

Behind his orange glasses, Tony rolled his eyes.  He stepped out onto the curb and towards the mall entrance.

Peter scrambled out of the car, throwing a thank you to Happy, and hurried after his mentor.

Luckily, it was still pretty early—right at the mall’s opening of the day.  The only people around were the two, meaning no one was poking Tony’s arm for a forced selfie.

“You know, kid, this might not actually be so bad,” Tony declared, striding towards the doors.

Peter threw out his hands in a what-the-hell gesture.  “We don’t even have to be here.”

Tony dismissed him with a wave and pulled open the door for the teen to walk through.  “This could be a nice—“

Airhorns and cheers erupted from loudspeakers and megaphones the second Peter passed through the doors.  Tony immediately clutched onto Peter’s arms as he stared around at the small gathering of people; Peter latched right back onto Tony.

“You’re our one billionth customer!” a man in a suit exclaimed enthusiastically.  He rushed forward and shook Peter’s hand.  “Congratulations!”

A news camera was shoved in front of their faces, filming their shocked reactions as a woman rushed forward and handed Peter a large check for—

“Five wishes!” she exclaimed giddily.  “Yours to demand at any time!  Congratulations!”

Peter and Tony exchanged a look of panicked confusion.

A man with a camera rushed forward.  “Say ‘I’m a winner!’”

The camera flashed, solidifying the moment of Peter gaping at the check and Tony staring wide-eyed into the camera’s lens.


	2. The First Wish from the Real Human Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know you’re just helping out this mall’s publicity stunt, right? Local Boy Doesn't Use Wish to Invest Stock in Porn.”
> 
> “Mr. Stark…” Peter cringed as a blush flooded his face.
> 
> “Yeah, yeah, sex is icky and don’t you forget it.”

“I don’t want them,” Peter told Ned for the thousandth time.  “I already have everything I want.”

“Dude, you gotta use ‘em on something good!”  Ned’s grin practically covered his face.  “Like, like one of those jet skies that Flash was showing off in those pictures in second period!  Or maybe, like, an unlimited pass to Coney Island _for forever!_ ”

Peter flopped backwards over the couch’s arm.  “If I wanted any of that stuff, I’d just have to ask Mr. Stark.  He probably already owns a jet ski.”

Ned dropped to the floor beside his best friend.  “But, dude, this could be your _own_ jet ski.  Can you imagine the look on Flash’s face if he saw you doing sick Spider-Man tricks on one?!”  Glee radiated off of the teen at the thought.

But Peter just rolled his eyes with a slight grin.  “Can you imagine if he saw Spider-Man riding a jet ski?”

The boys’ laughter died out at Tony walked into the living room.  He looked between the two questioningly.  “What’re you doing in my house?”

“It’s not really a house,” Ned noted.  “It’s more of a tower—or maybe a penthouse.”

Tony stared at Peter while pointing to Ned.  “What’s he doing in my house?”

“You told me to come over after school, remember?” Peter answered.

“And when did you start listening to me?”

Peter gave him a disgruntled look.  “Ever since you started coming up with dumb consequences when I don’t.”

Tony walked over to the open-floored kitchen area.  “My consequences are genius, thoroughly thought out—“

“You grounded me from school when I skipped school,” Peter pointed out, heading over to the kitchen counter.

Tony peeked at him from behind the fridge door before stuffing his head back inside.  “That was one time.  I was trying out natural consequences.”

Ned joined Peter at the counter’s stools.  “Do you read parenting books, Mr. Stark?”

Tony sputtered, emerging from the fridge with a juice box.  “I’m sorry, does it look like I have a child?”

The two teens blinked at him.

Tony scowled.  “No, I don’t, Ted.  And even if I did, I wouldn’t need to because I would kick parenting’s ass.”  He glanced down at the juice box.  “And I got this out for you guys but, you know what, I think I’m going to keep it now.”  Scowling at the teens, he grabbed the straw off the box and stabbed it into the box.  “I’ll be in the lab.”  And with that, he marched out of the room, juice box and all.

The two boys sat in a stunned silence after that departure.

“Sooo…”  Ned looked over to Peter.  “Why did he want us to come over?”

Peter shrugged.  “He’s just, uh, dramatic.  He always comes back up when he gets worried that I’m getting into his stuff.”

Ned’s eyebrows shot up to his hair line.  “Wow.  Mr. Stark totally cares about you, man.”

Peter’s brow furrowed.  “Yeah, I guess…  Not, like, that much though.  I’m just his intern…  Protégée….  Guy.  And he cares about his stuff.”

Ned gave him a disbelieving look.  “Yeah, OK.  Wanna help me with the Jakku Lego set?”  He headed over to his bag on the ottoman.  “I kept it in my backpack just in case we had time.” 

 

 

* * *

 

                                                                        

Ned and Peter were in the middle of a Mario Kart race on the humungous TV when a cold box was tossed onto each of their laps.  Ned continued racing distractedly while Peter gave up altogether to see the juice box sitting on his thighs.

Tony dropped into the arm chair beside the couch and tapped at his StarkPad.

Despite his hands maneuvering the remote, Ned’s questioning eyes were locked on Peter.

“This is the closest Mr. Stark gets to an apology,” Peter explained in a hushed tone.  He put the remote down as his character dropped to last place; he picked up the juice box instead.

“Yes!” Ned cheered, still managing to come in first.  “Eat my dust, Toad!”

“Real victory there, Ned,” Peter scoffed with a smile.

Ned smiled and immediately started up the next race.

Instead of picking up his remote, Peter scooted closer to the man in the armchair.  “Thanks for the juice box, Mr. Stark.  That’s really, uh, super nice.”

Tony raised his gaze onto the teen.  “You’re patronizing me.  Why is the teenager patronizing me.”

Peter grinned.  “Hey, I think that’s the first time you haven’t called me a tween.  Or a kid.  Or a kiddo.  Or a baby.  Or a Spider-kid.  Or a—“

“Yes, yes,” Tony agreed swatting away Peter’s ramblings, “we’re all growing up and becoming the teenagers we were meant to be.  Now, if you’ll kindly direct your attention to the reason I had you come over.”  With a flourish, Tony spun around his StarkPad.  On it was a picture of the 5 wishes check.

“They’ve been hounding me, kid,” Tony explained with a slightly dead glaze to his eyes.  “Multiple times a day.  I’ve flushed them through multiple secretaries but somehow someone got my personal number and has been calling, sending emails.  May said they just started contacting her as well.”

“What?  _Why?_ ”

“It’s a big publicity stint, kid, and you’re killing it with your week-long silence.  So what’s it gonna be?  Let’s burn through these wishes so they can stop being a pain in my goddamn ass.”

Peter chewed on his lip.  “I really don’t want them, Mr. Stark.  Is there any way I can just…”

“Nontransferable as they so kindly pointed out to me when I chewed them out this morning,” Tony answered with a grim smile.  “Just ask for a left shoe, a right shoe, a left shoe, a right shoe, and a left shoe.  I don’t care.  Just wish these wishes away.”

Peter groaned.  He really, really didn’t know what he’d even wish for.  Maybe he just wish for something that benefitted other people instead…

“OK,” Peter huffed.  “I got one.  You ready to email?”

“ _Thank God._ ”  Tony flipped open an app on his StarkPad, fingers posed over the keyboard.  “Go.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kids’ laughter floated over from the bounce houses.  The smells of hotdogs and hamburgers and burning charcoal wafted all across the park.  And lines and groups of people were scattered all throughout the grass.

Peter grinned as he looked over his work.

“It’s times like this that make me wonder if you’re even a real human kid,” Tony said, scratching his nose.  “What tween is given a free wish and uses it to do a charity barbeque for the local homeless shelter?”  Tony shook his head.

Peter grinned up at him.  “Your favorite real human kid would.”  Even though Tony was wearing black sunglasses, Peter knew that he was rolling his eyes.

“You know you’re just helping out this mall’s publicity stunt, right?  Local Boy Uses Wish to Help the Homeless Instead of Investing Stock in Porn.”

“ _Mr. Stark_ …”  Peter cringed as a blush flooded his face.

“Yeah, yeah, sex is icky and don’t you forget it.”

Peter looked at him with a desperate discomfort.

Tony chuckled and clapped a hand to his shoulder.  “But I’m proud of you, kiddo.  You did a nice thing for people that needed it.”  He turned his grin back to survey the turnout.

Peter couldn’t help but glow a little bit at the praise.  “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Now start dreaming up something else.  We’re knocking these wishes out of the park as soon as this is over.”

“Can I use a wish on you?” Peter asked, grinning up at Tony.  “I wish for your sunglasses.”

“Yeah, no.  They complete the look.”  Tony adjusted his jacket and sniffed.

Peter laughed, knowing he wouldn’t be granted that one.  He turned back to the people covering the grass.  “Gosh, this is such a great turnout, Mr. Stark.  Thanks for helping us spread the word about the barbeque.  The shelter’s director seemed really happy and grateful about it.”

“You know me; just makin’ wishes come true.”

And as Peter smiled at all of the people, he felt a pair of black sunglasses slide over his eyes.  His smile stretched, and he turned to praise his mentor.

Tony stopped the kid’s head before it turned all the way, gently directing Peter to look back at the crowd.  “Don’t look at me.  My outfit is incomplete, and I look like you did before our shopping trip.”

Peter laughed but obeyed in not looking.

“You get eight more minutes and then I’m taking them back.  Make ‘em count.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This shitshow is all mapped out, but WHAT WOULD Y'ALL HAVE MADE PETER PARKER WISH FOR???? TheOceanIsMyInkwell would've gone right down the angst path (love you), and I had the hardest time making a selfless boy pick stuff.   
> Oh, just for fun: HIT ME WITH REGRET AS YOU TELL ME HOW YOU WOULD'VE DONE THIS BETTER PLEASE


	3. The First Wish from the Best Nephew Out There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And it’s gonna go off without a hitch,” Happy told him seriously before turning to a checklist on his StarkPad. “Did we get the paint color swatches? I wanted paint color swatches.”
> 
> “Um…” Peter looked around the room, not seeing any paint swatches in their disarray of furniture boxes and power tools. With a glance at Happy, Peter continued the pretense of looking, unwilling to be the bearer of bad news.
> 
> A figure in the doorway caught Peter’s eyes in his search, causing him to blurt out happily, “Tony!” He leapt over a pile of tools and wrapped his arms around the man.
> 
> Tony patted the teen’s back, looking down at him in confusion. “Paint fumes making you sentimental, kid?”
> 
> Peter nervously looked over his shoulder, but Happy continued grumpily looking around the floor. “Don’t mention paint right now, Mr. Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to TheOceanIsMyInkwell and Anon for callin' it!
> 
> (And dreamscomingtrue, this one's for yooooouuuu.)

“No!  No!  I requested burgundy, and you brought in maroon!”

Peter decided it then and there: he was only getting out of his apartment alive if he stayed silent in the corner.

“It matched the fabric sample that you showed us at the store, sir—“

“Obviously, there was a disconnect somewhere down the line because I’m holding a _maroon_ duvet,” Happy snapped back.

The decorator gulped.

“I can go get a new one, Happy,” Peter told him, already breaking his shut-up-in-the-corner rule.  “I’ll just—“

“No.  No.  It’s fine,” Happy bit out, his eyes never leaving the poor worker.  “I need this guy outta my space so he’s going to head back to the store and swap this out for a burgundy one.”  Happy shoved the wrapped comforter into the arms of the worker.

“Right away, sir,” the worker clutched the bedding and scurried out of the apartment.

Catching Peter’s wide-eyed look, Happy turned to him.  “What?”

“I just… think you might be taking this a little too seriously, Hap,” Peter admitted hesitantly.  “It’s just a fun surprise for May.”

“And it’s gonna go off without a hitch,” Happy told him seriously before turning to a checklist on his StarkPad.  “Did we get the paint color swatches?  I wanted paint color swatches.”

“Um…”  Peter looked around the room, not seeing any paint swatches in their disarray of furniture boxes and power tools.  With a glance at Happy, Peter continued the pretense of looking, unwilling to be the bearer of bad news.

A figure in the doorway caught Peter’s eyes in his search, causing him to blurt out happily, “ _Tony!_ ”  He leapt over a pile of tools and wrapped his arms around the man.

Tony patted the teen’s back, looking down at him in confusion.  “Paint fumes making you sentimental, kid?”

Peter nervously looked over his shoulder, but Happy continued grumpily looking around the floor.  “Don’t mention paint right now, Mr. Stark.”

Tony morphed the hug into having his arm over Peter’s shoulder as he led him out of May’s bedroom.  “Why are we going from Tony to Mr. Stark in two seconds flat?”

“Mr. Stark is just your name now,” Peter explained breezily.  “Tony just slips out when my brain’s in hyperdrive.”

“Ah, so your unfiltered brain thinks of me as Tony.”  The man smirked at that.

“ _WHERE ARE MY GODDAMN PAINT SWATCHES?!_ ”

The pair stared down the hallway with wide eyes as the tornado of a man flew around the bedroom.

“I think Happy needs a break,” Peter whispered to his mentor.

Tony gave the kid a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder before cautiously making his way back to the bedroom.  “Hey, Hap?  Happy?”

Happy bustled about the room, his frustrated face barely lifting to glance at his boss.  “What?”

“We’re going out to lunch.  And we want you to come with us, buddy.”  Tony slowly inched closer, as if approaching a wild animal.

“No, too much stuff to do,” Happy dismissed him with a shake of his head.

“I’ll let you pick.”

“I’m busy, Tony.”

“Well, we need a driver.  And Peter needs a bodyguard.  You know how he gets—feed him a meal and he bounces off the wall like a sugar-hyped toddler.”

“ _Hey!_ ”  Peter’s voice echoed down the hallway.

Tony swatted a dismissive hand behind him.

Happy stopped moving around with a huff.  He looked up at Tony.  “You need a driver?”

“We do, Hap.”

“I guess… I could take a quick break…”  Happy looked uncertainly at the StarkPad checklist in hands.

Tony slowly took the StarkPad from his hands.  “That’s it, Happy.  You can come back to this after lunch.”  He was now holding the technology, despite Happy’s hands being frozen in the position they’d been holding the tablet in.  “There ya go.”

“I’ll start the car!” Peter called from the living room.

“NO!” Tony called back with a scowl before turning back to Happy and dropping his demeanor to a soothing one.  “Here that, Hap?  Kid’s gonna hotwire the car if we don’t get a move on.”

“I’m not hotwiring it!” Peter protested, his voice sounding further and further away.  “I have the keys!”

“PETER YOU BETTER NOT—“  Tony took a deep breath, but his wild eyes remained as he focused on Happy.  “Really need you to help me pummel a kid right now.  You’re my Forehead of Security, right?”

“Yeah… Yeah I’ll help you stop the kid…”  Happy walked towards the door dazedly.

“There’s my big guy,” Tony cooed, placing his hands on Happy’s back so he could push him from behind.  “Now if we could just pick up this procession so I don’t commit a murder today…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You touch my steering wheel again,” Tony threatened around a mouthful of sandwich, “you’re cleaning every car I own, inside and out.”

Peter moved onto his second sandwich with a grumbled, “Maybe if you just let me practice every once in a while—“

“I’m sorry if I don’t want to hand over my sports car to a kid without his license.”

“I can’t get my license until I get some practice in!”

“You don’t need a license,” Tony countered with a stare.  “I don’t have one, and look at me now.”

Peter’s mouth opened, closed, and then opened again.  “You drove us here!”

“What’re you gonna do?  Rat on me?”  Tony swiped up one of Peter’s potato chips.

Peter groaned and turned back to his sandwich.  “I’ll just have Ned’s dad help me practice.”

Tony scoffed.  “Yeah, I think not, spiderling.  If anyone’s gonna take you out for driving practice, it’s me.”

“That’s not even legal if you don’t have a license, Mr. Stark,” Peter pointed out bitterly.

Tony rolled his eyes.  “What, no input from the peanut gallery?”  He turned to see Happy staring intently at his phone, his sandwich untouched.  “What the hell?  Are you texting about the _renovations?_ ”  Tony swiped the phone from his hands.

Happy’s eyes turned panicked as he flailed to grab the phone.  “Give it back, Tony!  I’m talking to the decorators!”

“How ‘bout you just eat your sandwich, and then we can head back to HGTV Land?” Tony suggested with a worried look, pocketing Happy’s phone into his suit pocket.

Tony’s eyes flashed from worried to disbelieving.  “When did _I_ become the responsible one?  What alternate universe did we stepped into?”

“One where you won’t let me drive,” Peter grumbled, head in hand as he picked at his potato chips.  “I bet Alternative Universe Tony would take me driving.”

“Oh, cry me a river, kid that has adults, a driver, and public transportation.”

“Maybe I’ll just wish for my own car,” Peter threatened.

“Wish better come with a driver’s license,” Tony smoothly countered, throwing a glance to make sure Happy was finally eating.

To his surprise, Happy was already done.

“Alright, let’s go,” Happy announced, throwing his napkin down onto his empty plate and motioning for Tony to scoot out of the booth.

Bewildered, Tony got up and stared at him.  “God, what designer bug bit you?”  He turned to Peter.  “Did you know he was like this when you asked—“

With a hand on Tony’s arm and a hand on the back of Peter’s t-shirt, Happy dragged the two back to the car.

“I can drive!” Peter offered brightly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Wow.”

“Wow indeed.”

“ _Wow._ ”

“You need more adjectives, kid.”

“I know, but—“  Peter flailed his hands towards the walls.  “ _Look_ at this place!”

It was pretty incredible.  An open floorplan kitchen led to the dining space and then the living room.  Dark hardwood floors, white cabinetry, new stainless steel appliances, a new HD TV, new grey couches—and May’s bedroom.

“You did amazing, Happy,” Peter told him in awe and then leaped to hug the man.

With a pleased smirk, Happy hugged him back.  “Thanks, kid.”

Tony grinned and clapped Happy’s shoulder.  “Nice work, buddy.  Just needs Iron Man posters all over the walls and it’d be perfect.”

“Just check out the kid’s room,” Happy answered with a satisfied look.

Peter pulled out of the hug and gaped at him.  “You did _my_ room?!”

“Would’ve thrown off the whole feel of the space if I didn’t,” Happy confirmed.

Peter’s jaw dropped further.  “You didn’t have to do that, Happy!  This was for May!”

Happy shrugged with a grin, obviously not bothered by his decision.

Tony shoved the kid along.   “How ‘bout we go see how well this wish helped out your room, huh?”

Peter eagerly bounced over to his room and threw open the door.  His gasp was heard throughout the apartment.  “Oh my god!”

Tony chuckled and threw a grin to Happy before following the kid in.

“There’s _Star Wars_ posters!  LOOK, Mr. Stark, you’re on the sheets!  And this dresser is awesome, and is that my _own TV_?”  A huge gasp.  “ _IS THAT A MILLENNIUM FALCON MODEL?!_ ”

Happy’s smile widened as he stared around the place in satisfaction.  Suddenly, a tight grip was squeezing his middle.

“Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou, _thankyou_ , ohmygod, it’ssoincredible.”  Peter’s eyes were closed as he clung tightly to the man.

“No mention it, kid,” Happy responded with a smile, giving him some stiff pats to the back.

“Hey, Pete,” Tony commented, “looks like all your nerd ramblings paid off.  Seems like you should chat about that to Happy more often.”  He grinned at Happy.

Happy glared back.

Peter released Happy.  “How did you _remember_ all that stuff?  I—“  He froze, and his eyes widened.  “May’s coming up the stairs!”

Peter bounced over to the door before bouncing back to Tony.  “Do we, like, _hide?!_ ”

Tony scrunched his expression.  “What is this, a birthday party?  Go open the door like a normal kid.”

“Right!”  Peter hurried over but before he could place his hand on the door, it was opening.

“Peter!  I’m— _oh!_ ”  May dropped the luggage she was holding and blinked at the space.  “Oh my god.  What the hell?  I was only gone for, like, _four days_.”

“Surprise!”  Peter grinned and bounced around in place like he was hyped on caffeine (which he wasn’t—Tony would kill himself first to avoid that).  “I used one of my wishes to redo the—“

May pulled him into a hug, cutting him off.  “Oh, honey.”  She blinked back tears behind her wire-rimmed glasses.  “It’s _incredible_.”

“Thank you,” Happy said with a self-congratulatory smile.

“Happy designed it all!” Peter explained excitedly, pulling out of the hug.  “He only had like three days to pull it off, and he freaking rocked it!”

With a confident smirk, Happy shrugged.

“Wow,” May breathed with a smile before looking down to Peter.  “You’re the nicest kid.  You know that, right?  I thought you were going to use the second wish for that car you were looking at—“

“Oh, no, no.”  Peter chuckled nervously, sneaking a peek at Tony’s dead stare.  “Just, uh, throwing you off for the surprise.”

May smiled and kissed the top of his head.  “Thank you, baby.  This is… the best.”

“And it’s all paid off!” Peter added excitedly.

May stumbled back a step, the smile dropping off her face.  “W-what?”

Peter’s smile dimmed at her reaction.  “The, uh, the apartment?  I wished for you to own a renovated apartment.  They bought it for you.  So, so no more rent.”

May stared at him, her mouth slightly agape.

Peter shifted nervously.  “If you don’t, uh, want—“

May shoved him towards herself, hugging him for all he was worth.  “Thank you, Peter.  You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.  That was…  God, you’re the best kid.”

Peter smiled and relaxed into her arms.

When they pulled out of the hug, the Parkers were both wiping away tears.  After years of financially struggling, this was… this was something they used to dream about.  This was a dream.

“I’ll show you the rest of the apartment,” Happy told May with a soft smile.  “My favorite part is the laundry area.”

“Oh my god, we have a laundry area?!” May sputtered as she let herself be led down the hallway.

Peter stared after them with a smile.  He felt a hand land on his shoulder.

“That was really nice of you, Pete,” Tony told him softly.  “Thanks for roping us into it.  Happy is no doubt adding ‘interior designer’ to his resumé after this.”

“Thanks for your help, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, hugging his mentor.  “Seeing May like that… This was so worth it.”

Tony grinned and ruffled the teen’s hair.

Peter looked up at him and squinted.  “Are you crying?”

Tony leaned back and swiped at his eyes in horror.  “ _NO._ ”

“Oh, well you got tears, like, leaking out of your eyes—“

“Let’s just enjoy this moment, kid,” Tony cut him off, shoving the teenager’s head back against his chest.

Peter grinned and leaned into the hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider filling me with regret and telling me wishes YOU'D give to Peter Parker (freaking love all of your guys' ideas thus far so y'all suck love you).


	4. The Third Wish from the Forward-thinking Scholar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony hesitantly took a step away and gave the pair a point. “If you two shits pick something stupid, so help me God—“
> 
> Peter frowned while Clint grinned. The sight made Tony all that more hesitant to go.
> 
> “Go make the boss lady happy,” Clint told him, swiping his bag of gummy worms back. “We got this.” He began gnawing on a gummy worm and offered one to Peter.
> 
> Tony rolled his eyes and strolled back to the elevator. “I’ll join if I can. Don’t pick puppies. And, Peter?”
> 
> Peter looked up expectantly.
> 
> “If you wish for a car, they’ll never find your body.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think anyone guessed this wish, and that's probably because you (like Tony) know that Peter didn't need it. ;)

“OK, kid,” Tony told him as they walked down the Stark Industries hallway.  “You gotta promise me something, alright?”

Peter looked up at him, a little wary but mostly curious.  “OK…  What?”

In the middle of hallway, Tony stopped them by placing his hands on Peter’s shoulders.  “This wish you’re about to cast in there?  You gotta use it on you.”

Peter’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.  “But I already did that.  My room—“

“Your room only happened because me and Happy brought it into existence,” Tony told him.  “That wish was for May, kid.”

“Well, what if making other people happy is my wish?” Peter challenged.

Tony sighed.  “Just wish yourself something _you_ want.  God, be selfish for once in your life.  You’re only a teenager once.  Hopefully.”

“Ha, ha!  Bruce had candy!”  Clint strolled up to them, holding up an open bag of gummy worms.  He smirked around the gummy worm he was chewing on.

“And then there’s those that never grow out of it,” Tony added drily, his eyes locked on the archer.

“Don’t give me that look,” Clint countered defensively, eating the gummies.  “I’m here to support the kid.”

Peter’s whole demeanor lit up like a Christmas tree.  “You are?”

“Of course,” Clint answered.  “Steve filled me in on your whole wish thing, and I heard that you’re casting another one.  I wanted to support you.  Find out what the wish parameters are.  See how many arrows you can wish for.”

Tony snatched the gummy worms out of Clint’s hands, ignoring the man’s protests.  “Nope.  First of all, private party; cool kids only.  Second of all, you’re only here to manipulate Peter into wishing for something you want.”

Peter perked up at that, turning to Clint.  “Did you want something?  I can totally see if I can swing it!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Tony protested, throwing his hands over Peter’s ears and then turning to Clint.  “You could convince this kid to wish for a train to smack him in the face if it amused you; don’t push it.”

Clint rolled his eyes and dismissed, “I’m not gonna abuse the self-sacrificing squirt.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whined, looking at him unhappily.  “I have super-hearing; I can still hear everything you’re saying.”

Tony dropped his hands and leaned conspiringly towards Clint to whisper, “He hasn’t been wishing bags of candy on himself like a kid should.  I’m forcing him to pick something that _he_ wants.”

Clint turned towards Peter.  “You want bags of candy, squirt?  Baskets of puppies?”

“ _Don’t_ pick puppies,” Tony ordered, turning to look at his phone with a frown.

Peter scowled.  “I don’t know what to wish for!  And the wish people are in the meeting room because they were on the block and thought they’d come and help me plan the next one.  But I was gonna wish for a statue in Central Park to honor Mr. Stark—“

Tony turned a sharp glare on the kid, making Peter shrink away.

“But I guess… I won’t do that now…”  Peter sighed and looked up at Clint.

Clint blinked at him, slightly stunned.  “You… wanted to post a cemented mug of _Tony_ for all the world to see?”

“I take offense,” Tony protested, raising his index finger while texting with his other hand.  “Color me offended.”

“I dunno,” Peter responded miserably.  “I hate these wishes.  I never know what to ask for.”

“Shit.”

Peter and Clint looked to the disgruntled billionaire.

“Pepper needs me in a meeting, like,” Tony looked at his Stark watch, “ten minutes ago.”

“You better go before she actually kills you this time,” Peter told him, entirely serious.

“Uh, and trust you in this Make a Wish meeting?  Nice try, Parker.”

“I’ll watch out for the Spider-kid,” Clint vowed, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders.

While Peter looked up at him in wonder, Tony looked at him disbelief.  “As magical as that would be—“

“Mr. Stark, I’ll be _fine_ ,” Peter whined.  “I’ll just wish for something dumb like a jet ski or… something.”

“I have a jet ski,” Tony told him.

“I knew it!”

“Go,” Clint told the billionaire, pushing him away.  “I’ll make sure the kid wishes for something extra self-centered.”

Tony hesitantly took a step away and gave the pair a point.  “If you two shits pick something stupid, so help me God—“

Peter frowned while Clint grinned.  The sight made Tony all that more hesitant to go.

“Go make the boss lady happy,” Clint told him, swiping his bag of gummy worms back.  “We got this.”  He began gnawing on a gummy worm and offered one to Peter.

Tony rolled his eyes and strolled back to the elevator.  “I’ll join if I can.  Don’t pick puppies.  And, Peter?”

Peter looked up expectantly.

“If you wish for a car, they’ll never find your body.”  And with that, Tony stared down at the kid as the elevator doors slid closed.

Clint waved him off, using his arm on Peter’s shoulders to steer the kid to the meeting room.  “You know, I’m a dad so I totally get it.  But Tony takes the dad thing to a whole other level sometimes.”

“He’s not my dad,” Peter told him, pulling on a gummy worm between his teeth.

“Dad’s come in all shapes and forms, squirt,” Clint told him.  “And Tony definitely is one.”

Peter blinked at that thought as the pair walked into the meeting room.

After pleasantries were exchanged, the four people sat down at the table.

“I’m not really sure what I’m going to wish for this time,” Peter admitted, that gummy worm settling weirdly in his stomach.  “Mr. Stark told me to pick something that benefitted me.”

Clint continued chewing his gummy worms as he watched the exchange.

“Well,” the woman said, “you could wish for something that would be good for you in the long-run.  Do you have any hobbies that we could help with?  Maybe some goals you need assistance in pursuing?”

Peter thought about that for a moment and reluctantly admitted, “Well… I guess college tuition would suck.  So maybe that?”

Clint choked on his gummy worm.

“That’s an excellent wish,” the man said with an encouraging smile.  “What a bright idea to be making such wise goals at such a young age!”

Peter gave him a pained smile at the patronization.

“You sure, kid?” Clint checked once he recovered.  “You might get scholarships.  You could pick something more short-term—“

“There’s nothing else I really need,” Peter told him with a shrug.  “I’ll probably need this in a few years, so…”

Clint made a face.  “You really don’t just want bags and bags of candy?”

“I think that’s a fantastic wish that you chose for yourself, Peter,” the woman told him warmly.  “We’ll begin to set up that fund immediately.  Mr. Stark can expect an email with the details this evening.”

Peter smiled, satisfied that he knocked out more than half of his wishes now.

“Did you have any ideas about other wishes you’ll be wanting while we’re here?” the man checked.

Peter hesitated.  “I need to… run them by some people first.  Before I pick.”

The couple nodded understandingly and bid the two goodbye.

“So many prank opportunities wasted, squirt,” Clint told Peter as they walked down the hallway.  “So many whoopee cushions.  So many pounds of glitter.  Gone, just like that.”

Peter grinned up at Clint.  “You know we can still buy that stuff, right?”

Clint grinned mischievously back.

Tony came rushing out of the elevator before the pair could step inside it.  “Shit.  Is it over?  I missed the whole thing?  God, that was so short.”  He checked his watch frantically before turning to Peter.  “What’d you wish for?”  He then decided he probably didn’t trust the kid and turned to Clint.  “What’d he wish for?”

“I got all of my college tuition paid off!” Peter announced with a proud smile.

However, Tony was not smiling back.  In fact, he looked like he just witness roadkill.  “You’re kidding.”

Peter’s smile morphed into a defensive scowl.  “What?  It’s a good wish!  It’ll be—“

“ _Kid_.”  Tony ran a hand over his face.  “I’ve had your college tuition paid off since, like, the day I met you.”

Peter’s scowl slid off his face as understanding dawned.  “Oh…”

“Yeah, _oh_.”

“Well, now you don’t have to,” Peter explained optimistically.  “You can use that money to send some other kid off to college or something.  Or put it towards that statue of you in Central Park.”

“Kid, there is no—“ Tony huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose before whirling on Clint.  “And you!  _You_ were supposed to make sure the kid wished for piles of candy!”  He shoved a finger into Clint’s chest.

Chewing his gummy worms, Clint held up defensive hands.  “Uh, how is it my fault that your kid has a heart of pure freaking gold?  I tried to change his mind, but he was all rational about it.”

Tony rolled his eyes heavenwards.

“It’s OK, Mr. Stark,” Peter reassured him.  “I still got two more wishes.  I can wish for candy next time if you want me to.”

With a frustrated sigh, Tony snatched the gummy worms out of Clint’s hand and shoved them into Peter’s chest.

“God, Stark!”

“Kid isn’t getting candy; you don’t get candy,” Tony hissed, wrapping his arm around Peter to tug him away.  “Come on, kid.  Let’s go watch Hawkeye fail videos or something.”

Peter laughed.  “OK.  See ya later, Clint!”  He waved over his shoulder back to the spy.

Clint shook his head and waved back.  “Oh, Tony?  The wish granters said they’d send you an email about the tuition soon!”

As the duo entered the elevator, Tony threw the middle finger behind his back.


	5. The Fourth Wish from the Queens Orphan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter looked up at the suave billionaire standing beside him. He then noticed the half-full tumbler in his hand. “Is that alcohol?”
> 
> In a single movement, Tony finished off the drink. In an alcohol-strained voice, he managed, “No.”
> 
> Peter looked around in disbelief, wondering where the hell the alcohol was. “Where’d you even get that? This is a kid’s party, Mr. Stark.”
> 
> “Exactly,” Tony confirmed with a pointed look. “Stop looking around like I leave my booze out for four-year-olds to chug. I have some semblance of responsibility.”

_Kid, we are so close to knocking these magic wishes back into Hell.  Pick something or I’m telling them you want unlimited lobster from Chili’s_ , was a text that Peter received the next Saturday morning.

Raising his bedhead off his pillow, Peter squinted at the text and replied, _I don’t think Chili’s has lobster?_

_Exactly._

Peter scowled at his phone.  _Fine but I need to head to the compound before I pick._

_Please don’t tell me you’re redecorating the Compound.  I don’t think these Make a Wish people have pockets that deep._

_I’ll be up there in like 2 hours ok??_

Peter received a response in the form of an incoming phone call.  He accepted it, vaguely expecting how this was gonna go.

“Hey, remember that time?” Tony chirped immediately.  “When we had that talk about personal safety and luxuries and all that touchy feely stuff?”

Peter was already pulling on his shoes.  “Mr. Stark, the bus is totally safe.  I ride it all the time.”

“ _You do what now?_ ” Tony sputtered in response.

Peter cringed.  “You’re the one that said I can’t drive and that I should take advantage of New York’s public transportation!”

Tony grumbled back, “Why do you have to remember the stupid things I say?”

Peter picked up his apartment keys, giving his amazing bedroom a goodbye look.  “I’ll hop on the—“

“Do _not_ hop on anything—“

“ _Mr. Stark._ ”

“Listen, kid,” Tony said, suddenly serious.  “There was an Avengers fail last night, alright?  We were trying to rescue a senator from this garbage green bastard, and we didn’t succeed on that front.  The media is going to be hounding Iron Man’s intern all about the shit show, so just don’t… just don’t.  Let Happy come get you.”

Peter sobered, sinking onto a kitchen stool.  “Why wasn’t Spider-Man invited?”

“Because Spider-Man was a sleeping teenager, and we had it handled.”

“Doesn’t seem like you did.”  As soon as the words left his mouth, Peter cringed in regret.  “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.  I didn’t mean—“

“Nah, you’re right,” Tony agreed breezily with a sniff.  (Peter could hear the hard underlying of those words.)  “We screwed the pooch on that one.  I’ll make sure Spider-kid gets a handwritten invite next time.”

Peter sagged against the kitchen counter.  “Are you OK, Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah… Yeah, kid.  Can’t win ‘em all and all that.”

Peter frowned.

“So,” Tony said, forcing ease back into the conversation, “are you going to be a good Spider-baby and let Uncle Happy—“

“God, yes, please just stop with the nicknames,” Peter hurriedly pleaded with a wince.

“ _Fantastic_ ,” his mentor responded.  “Your ride should arrive in, uh, ten minutes.”

“That’s fast,” Peter commented, moving towards the living room window.

“Yeah, I may have said something about a teenager needing help battling off hangry reporters.  It’s a blur.”

Peeking through the blinds, Peter agreed, “Wow.  There’s, like, twenty people outside the apartment.”

“Don’t leave until Happy gets you, alright?”

“I could probably just, like, spider flip over all of ‘em.”

“ _Peter._ ”

The teen smirked.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Being the good kid he was, Peter, of course, did not reveal his spider powers to the mass waiting for him.  He let Happy help bustle him through the franticly questioning mob, leaving him blinking away the camera flashes and yells for the rest of the ride.  With his heightened senses, he didn’t think he’d ever get used to that.

Even before Peter walked out of the elevator, he could feel the somber air pressing on the Compound.  When he saw Wanda, Vision, and Nat, he was given strained smiles and waves.

A hand gripped his shoulder.

“Reporters didn’t hassle you too much?” Tony asked, eyeing him over before looking to Happy for the response.

“No,” Peter told him, giving him a look.

“We managed,” Happy confirmed.

Tony accepted that answer, pushing Peter towards the kitchen area where the other three Avengers were cooking.  “You eat yet?  We’re doing brunch since everyone slept in after…”  Tony picked at something on his shirt before turning to Peter.  “But you can never have too much food with that freaky metabolism.”

Peter humored him, letting himself be pushed into a seat at the table.  “Can I help with anything?”

“You can tell Tony that he’s not allowed to touch anything,” Natasha dryly told him, eyebrow raised.

“Hey, if the robot with no taste buds can cook, so can I,” Tony argued back with a hand stretched towards Vision.

Literally everyone else in the room chorused in on a resounding, “ _No._ ”

Peter snickered.

Happy took a seat next to Peter and billowed out a napkin before stuffing it into the collar of his shirt.

“Uh, who invited the help?” Tony quipped, staring expectantly at Happy.

“Me,” Happy responded, already beginning to stuff his mouth with the fruit on the table.

Tony rolled his eyes while Peter grinned.

“Alright, children,” Wanda interjected with a grin, carrying over a platter of steaming food, “let’s eat before you ruin this for the rest of us.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Peter asked as the six of them gathered around the table.

“You snooze, you lose,” Tony announced, stabbing his fork into the pile of French toast.

 

 

* * *

 

 

With a plate of food piled high in one hand and his laptop in the other, Peter set off for Cap’s suite.  Tentatively, he knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

Peter slowly pushed the door open, a wave of social anxiety rolling through him as he did.  He and Cap had grown closer in recent months, but they still weren’t… close.

Peter stepped into the suite, seeing Steve sitting in an armchair by the sunlit window, a sketchbook on his lap.  “I, uh, brought you some, uh, breakfast.”  Peter timidly held up the loaded plate.

Steve smiled at him and set the sketchbook aside.  “Thanks, kid.”

Peter walked over and handed him the plate.  “Oh.  Crap.  I, uh, I forgot a fork.  I’ll go—“

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve told him with a reassuring smile.  And to Peter’s surprise, he picked up the syrupy French toast with his fingers and bit into it.  “You make this?”

“Oh, no, no.  I’m pretty bad at cooking.  The other Avengers did.”

“Hopefully not Tony,” Cap said with a knowing grin.

Peter smiled back.  “Nat would’ve slapped him with a spatula if he tried.”

“Sit down, kid,” Steve told him, nodding to the empty armchair facing him.  “You don’t need to stand the whole time.”

“Oh.”  Peter blinked and scurried over to the seat.  “Yeah.  Sorry.”

Steve continued giving him a reassuring smile as he ate through the plate.  “Did you want some?”

“No, no, that’s OK,” Peter quickly assured him.  “I just finished eating.”

Steve nodded, turning back to his plate.

After a moment of increasingly tense silence, Peter said, “Mr. Rogers?  I have a question.”

“You can call me Steve.”

“Steve.”

“Shoot away, kid.”

“I, uh,” Peter looked to his laptop and took a deep breath.  “I have a couple of wishes left from that weird mall thing.  And I had this idea for one of ‘em.  I was thinking that maybe I could… ugh, I dunno, but I was thinking I could make, like, a children’s book.  For, for kids.  And the money it makes could go to a children’s shelter in Queens.  It’s actually the one that I stayed in for a few days while May’s custody got processed.

“And I was thinking…”  Peter gripped his laptop nervously, keeping his eyes down.  “Well, _wondering_ if maybe if you had time, you could do the illustrations for it…”

Steve blinked, the French toast he held suspended in the air.  “Peter…”

Peter anxiously rose his gaze.

Steve put down the food and leaned towards him.  “That’s an incredible idea.  I’d be honored to help you out with that, Peter.”

Peter rose his head to face him directly.  “R-really?  You will?”

Steve smiled.  “I love it, Pete.  That’s a fantastic idea.”

Peter let out a relieved laugh.  “Wow?  Really?  Yes?  Yes!  OK, yeah, that’s awesome!  Thank you so much, Captain Rogers!  Uh, Steve!”

Steve smiled back and pointed to the laptop.  “You got an idea sketched out on there?”

“Y-yeah!”  Peter yanked the laptop open and hurried it over to Steve.  “OK, OK, so I was thinking it’d be a book about Spider-Man, so of course it’d open in Queens…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The library was crowded with children.  Peter had made sure all of the Queens orphans got in first, and then the public was free to come support the book.  Peter grinned at all the kids running around the colorful space.  There were so many kids that the librarians had to hold off a line at the door, waiting to come in.

“Heard the line wraps all the way around the block,” Tony told the teen, obviously impressed.  “And we only opened up ten minutes ago.”  He shook his head.  “You’re gonna give my parties a run for their money, kid.”

Peter preened.  “Thank you so much, Mr. Stark.  This—“

“Hey, I had nothing to do with this,” Tony told him.  “This was all _you_ , kid.  You thought it up, wrote the damn book, hooked Steve in, got the wish people to take it to publishing…”  Tony grinned and encouragingly shook Peter’s shoulder.  “You’re _amazing_ , Pete.”

Peter laughed and hugged the billionaire.  “Thanks.”

Tony warmly hugged him in return.

Steve walked over, smiling at the sight.  “This is incredible, Peter.  You’re really making these kids’ days.”

“OHMYGOD CAPTAINAMERICA!”  A small body flung himself at Steve’s legs, wrapping them in a hug.  “I LOVE YOU!”

While Steve and Tony smiled down at the child, Peter laughed.  “I think that might be you, Steve.”

Tony whirled on Peter, lowering his purple-tinted glasses so his gaze could pierce the teen directly.  “Are you _serious?_   Capsicle already gets the first name treatment?”

From his crouch next to the child, Steve grinned up at them.

“Uh…” Peter took a retreating step back from Tony’s death glare.  “OH MY GOD!  EVERYONE, IT’S IRON MAN!  COME MEET IRON MAN!”

Tony’s death glare blazed with a murderous fire as suddenly tens of tiny bodies were piling themselves around his legs.

“TONYSTARK!”

“IRONMAN, YOU’RE MY FAVORITE!”

“ _IRONMAN!_ ”

“Get back here, kid!” Tony barked at the teen.

Peter laughed and called back a “IRONMAN, I LOVE YOU!” as he walked away.

The meet-and-greet fiasco died down enough sometime later for the book to be read to the sitting children.

“You gotta read it,” Peter told Steve enthusiastically, shoving the book into his hands.  “It’ll be so much cooler for them!”

Steve frowned disapprovingly.  “Pete, you’re the author.  You deserve this.”

Peter waved that off.  “They don’t care who Peter Parker is.  But they’ll always remember the day Captain America read them a book.  Besides, you made half of it.”

Reluctantly, Steve took the book and headed towards the rocking chair at the front of the room.  He threw Peter a fond look before turning to the screaming children.

“For the record, _I_ care who Peter Parker is.”

Peter looked up at the suave billionaire standing beside him.  He then noticed the half-full tumbler in his hand.  “Is that alcohol?”

In a single movement, Tony finished off the drink.  In an alcohol-strained voice, he managed, “No.”

Peter looked around in disbelief, wondering where the hell the alcohol was.  “Where’d you even get that?  This is a kid’s party, Mr. Stark.”

“Exactly,” Tony confirmed with a pointed look.  “Stop looking around like I leave my booze out for four-year-olds to chug.  I have some semblance of responsibility.”  He sniffed.

“Spider-Man loves to swing up in the trees,” Steve read, showing off the illustration of the red superhero flying through foliage.

“Until he swings into a cloud of bees,” he continued, showing the picture of Spider-Man frantically swatting off a swarm of bees.  The kids erupted into laughter.

Peter smiled and scurried off towards the back room.  “That’s my cue!”

And if at the end of the night Spider-Man was doing flips for the kids while Peter Parker was notably absent, no one said anything.

Except for Steve.

“Kinda fishy that the author disappeared when Spider-Man appeared,” Steve commented lowly to Tony.

Tony threw back his third drink of the night.  “If that kid wants to burn himself by intersecting his identities, he can go for it.”

Steve gave him a knowing, fond look.  “Somehow, I don’t think you’d let that happen.”

“Wanna see me do a backflip again?” Spider-Man enthusiastically asked the children.  “How ‘bout this time I do it—off a bookshelf?!”

As the kids screamed in excitement, Tony dropped his head into his hand.  “Why does he want me to drop dead?”

Steve gave his friend a pitying pat on the shoulder.

“Oops!” Spider-Man called out.  “I’m OK!”

Tony placed both hands on his face.  “I’m gonna give him the sex talk or something.  Just to get back at him for tonight.”

“Ah!  The bookshelf is kinda wobbly!”

“With diagrams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your sweet support you're all so nice and I love you aaaaaaaaaaallllllllllll


	6. The Fifth Wish from Peter Parker, the Avenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “OK, OK,” Peter breathed out, turning back to his digital list. “And we got Pepper, and Happy, and Steve, and Bucky, and not Thor because who the hell knows where he is, and Bruce, and Dr. Strange said no, and Falcon, and not Ant-Man because he’s with his daughter this weekend, and Vision, and Wanda, and wait—where’s Tony?” As his panicked face looked up, he met the impassive stare of his mentor, only a foot away from him.
> 
> “OK, I think that’s enough technology for you,” Tony commented drily, taking the StarkPad from the teen’s hands.
> 
> “Hey—“ Peter protested, reaching for it.
> 
> “Hey, we all made it, kid,” Tony told him, keeping the StarkPad out of reach. “You did roll call when we boarded; no one disappeared from the airborne jet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If your favorite Avenger isn't referenced lots and lots, all I gotta say is GODDAMN TRYING TO INCLUDE THIS MANY CHARACTERS IS LIKE HERDING CATS  
> (But also that'd imply neither Tony nor Peter are your favs so maybe reprioritize?)

“OK, we got Hawkeye?” Peter checked, looking between his StarkPad and the archer disembarking the jet. 

“And War Machine?” he asked.  Rhodey gave a sloppy salute as he walked past.

“Black Widow?”  Peter’s head frantically looked around.  “Wait, where’d she go?  Natasha?!”

“Chill out, kid,” she told him, right behind him. 

Peter whirled around and sagged in relief to see her throwing a duffle bag into an SUV.

“OK, OK,” Peter breathed out, turning back to his digital list.  “And we got Pepper, and Happy, and Steve, and Bucky, and not Thor because who the hell knows where he is, and Bruce, and Dr. Strange said no, and Falcon, and not Ant-Man because he’s with his daughter this weekend, and Vision, and Wanda, and wait—where’s Tony?”  As his panicked face looked up, he met the impassive stare of his mentor, only a foot away from him.

“OK, I think that’s enough technology for you,” Tony commented drily, taking the StarkPad from the teen’s hands.

“Hey—“ Peter protested, reaching for it.

“Hey, we all made it, kid,” Tony told him, keeping the StarkPad out of reach.  “You did roll call when we boarded; no one disappeared from the airborne jet.”

Peter nodded, pulling his fingers through his curls.

“Kid, do you want me to call May?” Tony asked softly, leaning down to his level.  “I can turn the quinjet right back around—“

Peter shook his head.  “She has to work.  I’m fine.  I just—ugh.  I just know you guys haven’t done anything like this since… Since before you all…”

“Yeah, I know,” Tony told him, keeping his voice gentle as he threw his arm around Peter’s shoulders.  “We’re good.  And we all love this idea.  It’ll be fun.”  He guided the kid towards an SUV.

“Really?” Peter asked, looking up at his mentor doubtfully.

“If anyone party-poops, I’ll kill ‘em,” Tony assured him breezily.

“Mr. Stark.”

“ _Uh, uh!_ ” Rhodey called from the SUV next to the one they were at.  “You’re in my car, Tones!”

Tony rolled his eyes but obediently went over, keeping his hand on Peter so the teen was dragged with him.  “That was like, ten years ago, Rhodey.  Get over it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

As the day passed, Peter found himself relaxing more and more.  The secluded island was a nice getaway after being cooped up in the city.  The beach mansion was enormous, letting all the Avengers have more than enough room.

Some would argue too much room.

“Where’s Peter?” Tony asked, looking all around the mansion.  “Where’s my kid?  FRI—goddammit I already hate this place.  Hey!  Legolas!  You seen the kid?”

Hawkeye hit the on button on the blender, making the obnoxious noise fill the room.  “Sorry,” he mouthed, pointing to his ear with a sympathetic wince and mouthing, “Can’t hear you.”

Tony rolled his eyes and stomped away.  “Pep!” he called once he reached the living room and saw her sitting on the couch.  “You seen the kid?”  He held his hand level to his waist.  “About yea high?  High-pitched voice and puppy eyes?”

Pepper chuckled and flipped through her magazine.  “Not since this morning.  Did you check outside?”

Tony sagged in annoyance.  “We’re on an island, Pep.  He could be in the middle of the jungle, pretending to be Rambo for all I know.”

Pepper gave him a look.  “There’s no jungle on this island, Tony.”

“But if there was, I’d be shit-out-of-luck, wouldn’t I?”

Pepper rolled her eyes and called out to the man entering the room.  “Steve!  Have you seen Peter?”

Steve froze, a red tint coloring his cheeks.  “Uh, no.  No, I haven’t seen…”  He cleared his throat.  “Did you check the laundry room?”

There was a beat of silence.

“OK, everything about _this_ ,” Tony waved his hand up and down Steve’s body, “is suspicious.  So show me where my kid is, and I won’t leave your hand in a bucket of water tonight.”

As Steve opened his mouth, the man in question entered the room.  Peter looked at Steve, and Steve stared at Peter.  “Hey,” Peter choked out, his face blushing as he scurried further into the room.

Tony threw up his hands.  “Where the hell have you been?  We’ve only been on this island for—“

“I was, uh,” Peter dared a glance at Steve, “exploring the place.  It’s, it’s cool.  Really, really big.”

Tony’s eyes switched suspiciously between the two men.  “Someone fess up.  I smell dirt, and it’s rotten.”

“Tony,” Pepper intervened pointedly.

“Did you break something?” Tony asked Peter, figuring he could make him crack before Steve.

Peter leaned away.  “No…”

“Did you break something attached to your body?” Tony checked, running his eyes over the kid.

Peter threw his arms over himself as he took another step back.  “ _No!_ ”

“ _Are you preserving your modesty?_ ” Tony sputtered incredulously, staring as the teen hugged his t-shirt to himself.

“Can you say _piña colada?!_ ”  Sam Wilson jumped into the room with a flourish, a smile, and two umbrella-adorned mugs.

Everyone stared back.

“Damn,” Sam muttered, straightening as he sensed the tone.  “How did y’all ruin the mood already?  It’s only been a few goddamn hours, guys.”

Tony pointed an accusatory finger at Peter and tattled, “He did something and won’t tell me!”  He turned the point to Steve.  “And he knows about it!”

Peter stomped past his mentor, swiping a mug from Sam’s hand as he left the room.

“Hey, no,” Tony interjected, hurrying after the kid.  “This mansion is still mine, and I’m still American, and it’s still _illegal_ for you drink there, kid!”

Pepper and the two remaining men shared a similar look.

“Tony’s not doing so hot at the relaxing part of this trip,” Sam commented, handing the drink over to Pepper.

Pepper accepted the drink with a knowing stare.  “I’ve never seen that man relax a day in his life.  I think it’d give him an aneurism if he tried.”

“ _Peter!_ ” the shout echoed through the mansion.  “ _Put that goddamn drink down right now!_ ”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Do we still play if we can’t get drunk?” Bucky asked, looking down at the rum bottle that was just passed to him.

“Everyone legal drinks,” Tony answered, passing out the rum and pointedly skipping the last person.

“Aw, come on, Mr. Stark,” Peter complained.  “Even May lets me have some of her wine on vacation.”

Tony just scoffed in response and settled into the sand between Peter and Pepper.

“OK, who wants to start?” Natasha asked, looked around their group circled around the bonfire.

“I will,” Clint claimed with a grin.  “Never have I ever worn poisonous lipstick.”

With her glare locked onto Clint, Natasha was the only one to take a drink of her bottle.  “My turn.  Never have I ever worn Hello Kitty panties.”

Clint dropped his smirk and begrudgingly took a drink.

Peter laughed loudly while everyone else grinned.

“Never have I ever been recognized as an Avenger in my civs,” Sam announced.

Pepper, Peter, Bruce, and Happy watched as the group took drinks.

“My turn,” Tony declared.  “Never have I—hey!  Barton, stop letting my kid drink your rum!”

“What?” Clint responded innocently while Peter blinked and coughed beside him.

“Never have I ever given alcohol to a minor!” Tony shot back with a point.

Clint took a proud swig, and Sam reluctantly drank with an eye-roll.

Rhodey leaned over.  “Uh, Tones?  Remember that girl in ’93 who just had her eighteenth birthday?”

Pepper stared at Tony with expectant, raised eyebrows while Peter’s jaw dropped.

“That’s lying!” Clint accused with a point.  “You gotta take two for that!”

With a grumble, Tony took two swigs of his rum.

“ _Wow,_ Mr. Stark—“

“Shut it.  Someone else go.”

“Can I go?” Peter asked enthusiastically.

Everyone waved him on.

“Never have I ever made out with someone in a laundry room!”

Tony gave him a weird look at the oddly specific proclamation.  With a look to Pepper, they both took a swig.  Clint took a swig.  Even Happy took a swig.

And then Steve and Bucky bashfully exchanged a look, and both took drinks of rum.

“ _I fucking knew it!_ ” Sam screeched, throwing himself at Bucky and tackling him into the sand.  “I saw those desperate eyes, and I pestered you to tell me, and you’re a _goddamn liar!_ ”  The two dropped their bottles as they wrestled through the sand.  Steve jumped in after them, trying to yank the men apart.

As everyone stared with dropped jaws, Peter watched giddily.

Tony turned his shocked expression on Peter.  “You knew.”

Peter gave him a wildly excited smile.  “I walked in on them when I was checking out the mansion.”

With an impressed smile and shake of his head, Tony threw his arm around the kid and pulled him into his side.

Peter smiled as he watched the circle gathered around the lazy, warm flames.  Steve had managed to break up the friendly brawl, Bruce was rolling his eyes, Clint was pestering for details, Nat looked unsurprised by it all, and the rest stared on with excited shock.

Everything about the moment—it felt right.

And Peter wasn’t stupid; he knew this “wish” was only granted because Tony had set up his jet and private island for the vacation.  The Avengers were only here because Peter had personally begged each person to take a few days off.

But they made it.  They were all here, all together, with nothing to really worry about, as they drank rum around a bonfire and lovingly pestered each other with questions and dares and never-have-I-evers.

And that was Peter could want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> errybody gettin' their own bottle (not you, Peter) because Tony Stark is extra


	7. And Something He'd Wished for All Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let go, Spider-Man!”
> 
> Peter looked down at the red and gold speck far below him. He knew, he knew he needed to let go of this missile. It was heading for the space shuttle out of the atmosphere for Christ’s sake. But looking down at the earth becoming remarkably similar to those NASA photos and the way the air seemed to be thinning out inside of his lungs…
> 
> Peter clutched the speeding missile closer, tears spiking in his dry eyes. “I, I can’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha this is a fluff humor fic right

“ _Let go, Spider-Man!_ ”

Peter looked down at the red and gold speck far below him.  He knew, he _knew_ he needed to let go of this missile.  It was heading for the space shuttle out of the _atmosphere_ for Christ’s sake.  But looking down at the earth becoming remarkably similar to those NASA photos and the way the air seemed to be thinning out inside of his lungs…

Peter clutched the speeding missile closer, tears spiking in his dry eyes.  “I, I _can’t_.”

“ _You have to, kid,_ ” Ironman’s voice demanded in his ear.  “ _I’ll catch you.  I swear._ ”

Peter couldn’t help how his lower lip began to tremble.  Because he’d _heard_ that line before… before Titan and, and _Thanos_ —

But Peter wasn’t in his space-equipped Iron Spider suit.  He didn’t even have his goddamn parachute after last night’s debacle.

“I, I don’t have a parachute!” Peter gasped out frantically.

Peter barely heard the curse before Ironman’s, “ _You don’t need one, Pete!  Just—drop!_ ”

Peter looked up as the sky began to darken; his heart sped impossibly faster as the air all but disappeared.

“ _Drop!_ ” Tony demanded hysterically.  “ _Drop NOW!_ ”

Knowing he would be dead if he didn’t—Peter peeled his hands off the side of the missile, kicking himself off the missile with all of the strength he had left.  He cried out as he felt his ankle break apart under the force of the kick.

And then he fell.

Peter watched as the missile soared up, up, farther out of Earth’s atmosphere.  It shrank before his eyes as he tumbled through nothing but air.  On either side of him, two rockets shot up and smashed into the missile, all three blasting apart in a fiery explosion.  The pulse of it ricocheted back into Peter, knocking away what little air he had and accelerating his descent further.

He wanted to call out to Tony.  He wanted help.  He wanted to apologize for not letting go sooner.  He wanted to say goodbye.  But there wasn’t any air up here.  He couldn’t even draw in a breath to cry out when a chunk of white-hot metal smashed into him, just above his right eye.  Underneath the mask, he could feel the skin on his forehead tear and bruise.

Blood dripped into his eye, but his vision was already beginning to darken.

Metal hands yanked at his waist, pulling him into something cool and solid.  Like a drowning victim, Peter thrashed out, trying to find purchase on the thing that could save him from this asphyxiation.

“ _I got you!_ ” a voice shouted in Peter’s ear as Peter locked his limbs around the metal torso.  “ _I got you, kid!_ ”

Over Ironman’s shoulder, the earth’s surface swirled and darkened.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter thinks that he must’ve blacked out because the next thing he knows, he’s lying in a bed.  Even in the dim lighting of the night, Peter can tell that he’s in the med bay.

He vaguely remembers flashes of dreams: Tony talking to him while he laid on hot pavement, Bruce talking to him reassuringly, hands holding him down while his ankle is prodded.

Peter throws off his sheet and sees a cast wrapped around his left ankle, extending to his knee.  With his healing abilities, part of him wonders why they even bothered.

“Welcome back, Peter,” FRIDAY greeted from the ceiling.  “Shall I alert Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner that you’re awake?”

“What time is it?” Peter mumbled rubbing at his face but stopping when he feels gauze taped to his forehead.  Flashes of white-hot metal dance across his mind.

“3:22 AM.”

“I-it’s OK,” Peter reassured her.  “I-I’m OK.”

“I’m obligated to alert Mr. Stark as soon as you’re conscious,” FRIDAY explained.

“I’ll tell him,” Peter said, pushing his feet over the side of the bed.

“It is advised that you remain in bed until Dr. Banner checks on you.”

“Please, let me just—“  Peter blinked away tears as he reached for the crutches propped next to his bed.  “I need to see Tony.”

There was a pause before FRIDAY warned, “I can only delay my alert system for one more minute.”

Peter nodded, taking what he can get.  He stood and leaned on the crutches, wincing as his head rushed at the movement.  He looked around the dark room, shuddering as it drudged up the images of the darkness he almost soared into.

He wasn’t staying in the med bay.  No way.

He forced his crutches forward, quickly hobbling out of the med bay and heading for the elevator.  “Mr. Stark’s floor, please,” Peter murmured as the doors closed around him.

As he reached the floor, Peter didn’t want to think how high in the tower he was right now—how close to the atmosphere he was.  He used his crutches to hop towards the hallway.

As he reached the bedroom door he wanted, Peter faltered.  He really didn’t want to be this high up.  He really, really didn’t want the air to leave his lungs again—

The door flew open, and Tony jumped into the hallway, staring at Peter with wild, red-rimmed eyes.  “Pete?  Peter?  Hey, kid, come on.  You need to breathe.  Take a breath for me.”  He placed his hands on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter shook his head, tears falling down his cheeks.  “ _Mr. Stark.  I can’t—_ “

Tony immediately picked up the kid, dropping the crutches in the hallway and leaving them behind.  He kicked the door shut and carried the hysterical teen to his bed.

“Breathe, Pete,” Tony ordered in the calmest voice he could muster, keeping his hands on Peter’s knees as he crouched in front of him.

“It was almost,” Peter gasped and hiccupped, “like _Titan_.  And I couldn’t b-breathe, just, just like when I, I, I—“

Tony wrapped the teen in his arms, yanking him into a tight hug.  “I know,” he whispered into his kid’s ear.  “I know.  I was scared too.”

Peter wailed and clutched onto Tony desperately.

Tony rubbed soothing circles to the teen’s back.  “How ‘bout we go lay down, huh?  You need the rest, Pete.”

Peter practically convulsed.  “ _Please don’t make me go back to the med bay._   Please, I can’t, I can’t b-be alone—“

“Hey, it’s OK,” Tony soothed, holding Peter tightly to his chest as he maneuvered them to lie on the bed.  “That’s totally OK.  We’re just going to lay down in my bed.  That sound good?”

Peter nodded jerkily into Tony’s shoulder.

Tony held onto the kid, continuing to rub his back.  Part of him wondered if, in another reality, he would be doing this with his own kid.

Tony instantly winced at the thought, settling his arms over the teen; Peter _was_ his kid.

Peter managed to subdue his sobs into tears and hiccups.

“There ya go,” Tony whispered encouragingly to him.  “It’s OK.  We’re here.  I have you.  And we’re in my bedroom, and in my bed which stinks like ass when Pepper is on business trips.”

Peter’s laugh sounded a little choked, but Tony still counted it as a win.

“I don’t think many other people can say they got to be in Tony Stark’s bed,” Tony told him.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Peter managed to say around his hiccups.

Tony’s jaw dropped as he looked down at the teen’s wet smile.  “Why, you little stink.”  He hugged him closer.  “You got jokes, kid.  I think I’ll keep you around.”

Peter’s laugh was a little less choked as he settled his cheek onto Tony’s chest.

A few calm minutes passed before Peter was able to take a shaky deep breath.

Tony patted his back encouragingly.  “Do you wanna talk about it, kid?”

Peter shook his head into Tony’s chest.

“That’s fine,” Tony told him.  “That’s OK.  Do you wanna sleep?”

Again, Peter shook his head.

Tony nodded, running his hand through Peter’s hair; Peter relaxed at the touch.  “Well, how about we talk about something else, alright?  How about the fact that Bucky and Steve are vacationing on _my_ boat near Tahiti right now?  What have those ungrateful twerps ever given me?”

“Friendship,” a small voice suggested.

Tony looked fondly down at his kid.  “Nah, I’ve got more than enough of that.  And I seem to spend all my time with a certain Spider-kid anyways.”

“Probably because he’s cool,” Peter mumbled back.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s a little cool,” Tony agreed.  “You know what’s not cool?  Those Make a Wish bitches are still hounding me.”

“You know they’re not actually from Make a Wish, right?  They’re just, like, a PR company the city mall hired or something.”

“They’re a pain in my ass is what they are,” Tony said.  “You cast all of your wishes, and now they’re trying to rope me into all these other random publicity stunts.  I’m going to have to change my personal email just to drop them.”

“Make your new one something cool,” Peter told him.

Tony gave him an insulted look that he didn’t see.  “How is iamironman not cool?”

Peter shrugged.  “Could be iamspiderman.”

Tony rolled his eyes affectionately.  “I’ve got that one reserved.”

Peter gave a small laugh.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.  And sorry we got roped into all those mall wishes.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.  You still used ‘em well.”

Peter shrugged again.  “Some other kid could’ve used ‘em better.”

“Oh yeah?  Why’s that, Spider-kid?”

“I already had everything I used to wish for.”

There was a pause until Tony could manage the words, “Yeah?  What, uh, did you used to wish for?”

“I used to wish that May would be happy,” Peter admitted.  “You know, after Ben died?  But she… she seems good now.  And I, uh, used to wish that I could be a superhero like the Avengers.  Because I’d watch you all on the TV, and you’d fly past my window, and—“

“Damn, I should’ve high-fived you on my way past.”

Peter laughed.  “Anyways, that worked out too.

“And I, uh, for a long time used to make this one wish.  Well OK, it was actually two wishes, but they both ended up coming true in this weird, intertwining way—“

“Get on with it, kid.”

“I used to wish that I could meet or maybe, maybe just hang out with Tony Stark one day.  I thought you were so cool, and you’re so smart, and you used that intelligence to create things and help people.  And I just thought that if I could be around you, that’d make me cool by default too.”

“Doesn’t seem to have rubbed off on you, did it?” Tony jabbed with a smirk.

As Peter laughed, Tony ruffled his hair.  “I’m kidding, kid.  You’re plenty cool yourself.  You didn’t need ol’ Money Bags for that.”

“I know,” Peter said confidently, moving his head up so Tony could see his smirk.

Tony laughed.  “Alright, and what was the other one?”

Peter dropped his head back onto Tony’s chest.  “My other what?”

Tony rolled his eyes.  “The other wish.”

Peter began playing with a thread on Tony’s black t-shirt.  “I used to… to wish and hope on birthday cakes and shooting stars and pennies and stuff that… that I’d… have parents again.”

Tony’s heart stopped beating.

“And I got May,” Peter continued on, “and I got Ben for a bit.  But they’d always been there as my aunt and uncle and it… just… I mean, she totally is my mom.  But I don’t know, I just wanted… more?  I don’t know.  I feel bad saying it out loud now.  I just used to wish that I’d have my parents again, and May’s only half of that.”

When Peter looked up, he saw tears in Tony’s eyes.  “Oh, no.  I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean—“

“Shut up, kid,” Tony managed to say, wrapping his arms around Peter again.  “These are the good tears.”

“Oh.”

Tony drew in a shaky breath.  “And likewise.  You know.  For you, but in, uh, reverse.  I never thought I was the parental type, but I… I’d stop the world for you, Pete.”

Peter smiled into Tony’s t-shirt.  “Can we have matching shirts or something?”

“God, absolutely not.”

“Matching goatees?” Peter asked, popping up to stare enthusiastically at the adult.

“I’d like to see you grow a single facial hair.”

“Matching…”

“I will roll you off this bed right now, Parker, broken ankle be damned.”

Peter laughed and settled back down.

Tony closed his eyes, one hand going back to carding through Peter’s hair.  “I’m asleep now.  So stop talking to me.”

“So does that mean you’re sleep-talking?”

Tony moved his hand from Peter’s hair to his eyelids, forcing them to close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with wanting to rephrase Peter's wish over and over again, but I just didn't know how to convey that Tony was filling something that May wasn't but May is still a parent to Peter. GAH. Sorry if that comes off as some shade to May or Ben, y'all. They the MVPs


	8. Epilogue: Tony Stark Grants a Final Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 911.
> 
> Peter gaped at the text. Why was Tony saying 911? Was he in danger? Was the city in danger? Did he need Spider-Man?!
> 
> Outside your apt.
> 
> Peter’s eyebrows shot up, and he frantically looked around the piles of dirty clothes for his shoes. Shoving them on—no time for socks—Peter bolted out his bedroom and towards the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noooooo how did we already reach the end nooooooo
> 
> I hope this ending finds you all well as this has been my favorite chapter of this lil guy. Enjoy!

_911._

Peter gaped at the text.  Why was Tony saying 911?  Was he in danger?  Was the city in danger?  Did he need Spider-Man?!

_Outside your apt._

Peter’s eyebrows shot up, and he frantically looked around the piles of dirty clothes for his shoes.  Shoving them on—no time for socks—Peter bolted out his bedroom and towards the front door.

“Woah,” May called out, stirring a pan of eggs at the stove.  “Where you goin’?”

“Tony needs me!” Peter shouted, grabbing his jacket off a chair and his keys off the counter.

May smirked, not at all concerned.  “Have fun, baby.”

Peter gave her a weird look at that and hurried for the door.  “Bye, May!  Love you!”

“Larb you too!”

Peter was flying down the stairs, too impatient to wait for an elevator.  He jumped from floor to floor until all seven were cleared.  He shoved his way out of the front entrance, running towards the car and—

And Tony Stark was casually leaning against the red Audi.  Not… dying.  Or… needing… urgent… help…

Peter skidded to a stop and furrowed his brow.  “Mr. Stark?”

“Oh, good,” Tony commented, keeping his hands in his pants pockets.  “I was worried I’d be waiting here longer than a minute.”

And with that, Tony turned and climbed into the passenger side of the car.

Peter stumbled forwards, leaning down to the open window there.  “M-Mr. Stark?  What—what’s the emergency?”

“The emergency was that my time was being wasted,” Tony responded drily.  “Hop in.”

Bewildered, Peter looked to where the man was pointing: the driver’s seat.  He gaped.  “ _What?_ ”

“You said you needed lessons,” Tony reminded him casually.  He then looked over, his gaze piercing Peter through the sunglasses.  “Please tell me you didn’t try driving around with Ed’s dad.”

“W— No.”  Peter quickly shook his head.  “No, I, I didn’t because you said…”  Peter’s brow furrowed.  “You said I wasn’t allowed to drive?”

Tony rubbed at his temples.  “You have five seconds to either get in this car or go back into your apartment.  Pick.  Now.”

Peter darted around the front of the car, yanking open the door and practically throwing himself into the driver’s seat.

Huffing out a breath to calm himself down, Peter stared at the steering wheel.  The car smelled new.  The dashboard held top-of-the-line displays and radios.  A red button with a spider on it caught his eye, and Peter reached over.

Tony swatted his hand down.  “Eh, eh, eh!  First rule of driving—no touching anything Tony doesn’t tell you to.”

“What’s that?” Peter asked, pointing to the spider button.

“It makes a Spidey suit pop out of the glove compartment,” a voice said from the backseat.  Peter whirled around to see Happy crammed in the back, munching on French toast sticks and holding a syrup packet with his other hand.

“Where in God’s name did you get fast food?” Tony demanded incredulously.

“When you went up to ask May for permission to take the kid,” Happy answered, mouth full of food.  “Burger King around the corner.”

“Hi, Happy,” Peter greeted cheerily with a small wave.

Tony shoved a hand over Peter’s face, keeping his focus on the man in the backseat.  “If you drop a single crumb in this car, you’re cleaning it with your mouth.”

“Ew,” Peter commented from behind Tony’s hand.

Happy rolled his eyes.  “I’m a professional, Tony.  I think I can manage not dropping crumbs.”

“Do I just press the button to start it?”

Tony whirled around to see Peter staring at the ignition button, his index finger centimeters away from it.  Tony swatted the finger down.  “Hey, first we’re going to go over the car.  Steering wheel.”  Tony pointed.  “Ingition button to start the car.  Radio.  Hazards.  Emergency Spider-Man button.  Wipers and blinkers.  Left foot brake, right foot gas.”

Happy choked from the back seat and sputtered, “You drive with both feet?”

Tony looked back at him with a head tilt.  “You don’t?”

Peter looked between the two.  “Uh… I don’t know if you should be the one teaching me, Mr. Stark.  No offense…”

Tony blinked at Peter.  “Excuse you, I’m a _fantastic_ driver.  And you’ll be one in no time under my wing.”

Peter looked between the men nervously.  “It’s just that I took a driving course online to get my permit, and it said that I only use one foot—“

“Fine, use one foot,” Tony shot back bitterly.  “Does it affect the fact that the left pedal brakes and the right makes you go?  No.  So start the car.”  He sank back into his seat with an expectant sniff.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Happy called from the back.

“Uh, OK,” Peter agreed doubtfully and pressed the button.  Nothing happened.

Tony rolled his eyes.  “Put your foot on the brake, then press it.”

“Uh, the left one?”

“Tony, I don’t think this kid is ready to—“

The engine revved to life, cutting Happy off.

“I did it!” Peter said in surprise, a smile appearing as he looked over to Tony.

“Good.”  Tony nodded and pointed to Peter’s left.  “Seatbelt.”

Peter obediently complied while the other two left theirs undone.  “OK.  Now I… put it in drive?”

At Tony’s nod, Peter reached for the gear shift.

“Just,” Happy leaned forwards, sticky hand outstretched, “keep your foot on the brake until you’re ready to move, Pete.”

Peter nodded quickly and shifted to drive.

There was a beat of silence before Tony waved to the road.  “So… go.”

Peter shot his wide eyes over to him.  “ _Go?_ ”

“Pretty sure there was supposed to be a mirror check in there, boss.”

Tony rolled his eyes.  “Fine.  Check your mirrors, then go.”

Peter turned his horrified stare to the rearview mirror.  “Check them for _what?_ ”

Tony glanced at the oncoming traffic.  “You’re good.  Just go.”

“Aaaahhh…”  Peter cranked the wheel all the way to the left, lifting his foot off the brake so they inched into the lane.  A car immediately appeared in the lane, nearly snapping off the sideview mirror.  Peter stomped on the brake as the car passed with a long honk.

“This is why I didn’t learn to drive in New York,” Tony commented offhandedly.

Peter turned his horror-stricken gaze to his mentor.

“Hey, eyes on the road,” Tony told him, pointing back to the road.  “Go when you see an opening, kid.”

Peter waited for a good number of cars to pass before he blew out a breath, took his foot off the brake, and merged into traffic.  “H-hey!  I did it!”

“Great work, kid,” Tony congratulated with a smile.  “And that’s all there is to it.  Stop at red lights and use your blinkers and all that jazz.”

“What?” Peter squeaked, hands tightly hanging onto the steering wheel.  He was too afraid to look at anything except to road in front of him.

“Shit,” came from the backseat.

“What?” Tony demanded, torn between watching the road and looking to the back.  “Happy, I swear to God, if you dropped that packet of syrup in Peter’s new car—”

Peter’s eyes bugged impossibly wider.  “This is _my_ car?”

“God!  Happy!”  Tony began crawling over the middle console to the backseat.

“We hit a bump!” Happy defended.

“There were no bumps!”

Peter threw a desperate glance to the backseat.  “Can I pull over now?  I think I’m done.  Yeah, I’m done.  I’m gonna pull over.”

“No!” Tony shouted from the backseat.  “Drive to the Tower!”

“I don’t know how to get there!” Peter cried back, scrunching his face in fear.

“Just keep driving towards the big tower with the A on it!  I’ll tell you when to turn.”

The rest of the drive passed in a blur of tense fear, last-minute directions, and begging from Peter.  By the time they entered the Tower’s parking garage, Peter rolled into three spaces and fumbled to pull the gear shift back into park.  He slammed his finger into the ignition button, cutting off the engine with a sigh and slumping into the seat.

“You did great, kid,” Tony approved, still in the back with Happy.  “Gotta say, that went a lot better than I was expecting.”

Peter couldn’t even form a response to that.

“Alright, everyone, out,” Tony announced.  “Happy’s got a car to clean.”  The billionaire smoothly exited the car and started walking towards the garage’s elevator.

Peter fumbled for the door handle and threw himself out onto the pavement.  He scrambled to stand and follow, his legs shaking as he did.

“Not bad for your first time, kid,” Happy said and squeezed the teen’s shoulder.

“That was awful,” Peter squeaked.

Happy shrugged.  “Tony will help you out better next time.  He’s doped up on, like, five Xanax right now so he’s a little out of it.”

Peter threw his hands over his face as Happy steered him to the elevator.

“FRIDAY, penthouse,” Tony instructed once the three were inside.

“So, kid,” the man said.  “I think after a few more lessons like that, you’ll be holding your license in no time.”

“Uh, that’s OK,” Peter disagreed hesitantly.  “I don’t really need a license.”

“What?” Tony took his sunglasses off to get a better look at him.

“I, just—you said I had you and Happy and the subway so… what New Yorker really needs a driver’s license,” Peter said hurriedly.

Tony shrugged and put his sunglasses back on.  “If you say so, kid.”  The elevator doors opened, and Tony strutted off with a smirk.

Peter gaped and chased after him with an accusatory finger.  “Wait!  You did that on purpose!  You’re trying to scare me out of driving!”

“I’d never do that to you, kid,” Tony said over his shoulder, his voice holding no conviction.

Happy followed after as the teen jumped on his mentor’s back.

“You suck!” Peter shouted.  “You totally, totally suck!  I’m totally asking Ned’s dad for driving lessons now!”

Tony scoffed, walking off with Peter on his back.  “Over my dead body, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaalllll the sad faces that this has rolled to an end. I've got real life deadlines marching towards me, but I hope an idea strikes me to forgo them sometime soon. Until then, this has been a blast, and I've treasured all of your comments and kudos. Kudos to all of you! (Even you, Ned's dad.)

**Author's Note:**

> *Cue Curb Your Enthusiasm theme song*


End file.
